I should never again see the one I loved most in the world.

"You won't be unhappy with me," he continued; "it is better than being
sent to the Home. And let me tell you, you must not try to run away,
because if you do Capi and Zerbino would soon catch you."

Run away--I no longer thought of doing so. Where should I go? This tall
old man perhaps would be a kind master after all. I had never walked so
far at a stretch. All around us were barren lands and hills, not
beautiful like I had thought the world would be outside of my village.

Vitalis walked with big regular strides, carrying Pretty-Heart on his
shoulder, or in his bag, and the dogs trotted close to us. From time to
time Vitalis said a word of friendship to them, sometimes in French,
sometimes in a language that I did not understand. Neither he nor the
animals seemed to get tired. But I ... I was exhausted. I dragged my
limbs along and it was as much as I could do to keep up with my new
master. Yet I did not like to ask him to let me stop.

"It's those wooden shoes that tire you," he said, looking down at me.
"When we get to Ussel, I'll buy you some shoes."

These words gave me courage. I had always longed for a pair of shoes.
The mayor's son and the inn-keeper's son wore shoes, so that on Sunday
when they came to church they seemed to slide down the stone aisles,
while we other country boys in our clogs made a deafening noise.

"Is Ussel far?"

"Ah, that comes from your heart," said Vitalis, laughing. "So you want
to have a pair of shoes, do you? Well, I'll promise you them and with
big nails, too. And I'll buy you some velvet pants, and a vest and a
hat. That'll make you dry your tears, I hope, and give you legs to do
the next six miles."

Shoes with nails! I was overcome with pride. It was grand enough to
have shoes, but shoes with nails! I forgot my grief. Shoes with nails!
Velvet pants! a vest! a hat! Oh, if Mother Barberin could see me, how
happy she would be, how proud of me! But in spite of the promise that I
should have shoes and velvet pants at the end of the six miles, it
seemed impossible that I could cover the distance.

The sky, which had been blue when we started, was now filled with gray
clouds and soon a fine rain commenced to fall. Vitalis was covered well
enough with his sheepskin and he was able to shelter Pretty-Heart, who,
at the first drop of rain, had promptly retired into his hiding place.
But the dogs and I had nothing to cove